by Darrell Bain
“I'll tell Melanie and Geraldine, Major Grindstaff. I'll tell Sean as well, but frankly I wish we had a political advisor of his caliber whose name wasn't Murphy. That name has unpleasant connotations during military operations, or so my dad told me while he was in the army.”
“It still does, I'm sorry to say. Let's just hope that Murphy keeps himself home and doesn't try riding the tender with us. I shudder to think of what he could do on a combined military and diplomatic mission.”
Travis held up his hand, palm out. “Right. No Murphy of that sort. But Sean is the best man for the job, though. I generally don't think much of politicians but he's a bit different from the usual run. He began his political career in the State Department but that was after he spent almost ten years in the Marines, including action on Myer.”
“Damn. I didn't know that. There weren't many of the boys who came back from that one.”
“I know. It was hero worship over that stand at the river that almost got me into the army, too. If I hadn't wanted to travel in space so bad, I might have gone in but at the time there weren't that many military units being shipped to the colonies. Then the COESS Academy accepted me and here I am. When the radicals took over Russia and the IC it sure changed the concept of not putting troops on colony worlds, didn't it?”
“That it did,” Grindstaff agreed. “As if Brazil and the Chinese hegemony weren't already causing enough problems. I take it Sean Murphy is coming along to lend a lawyerly and governmental voice to any negotiations that take place?”
“Exactly. He's privy to some of the people high up in our government back on earth and knows their thinking on the subject and he ought to help me off to a good start with the aliens. Melanie is more of a specialist, a sociologist. Of course no one really expected to find another intelligent species after the initial earthlike worlds failed to produce any, but politicians or government officials going off earth are required to know the first contact protocols. That includes all the cans and can'ts they're allowed to offer or decline.”
“Don't you know them, too?”
No,” Travis admitted, “or he wouldn't have to go. All we're required to know is how to initiate the first contact protocols. After that we're supposed to run for the nearest governor of a planet and turn it over to him or her. It's always been sort of a joke with officers in COESS ships since we never go to planets that haven't been settled already. I guess the joke is on us now.”
“In spades, Captain. In spades.”
* * * *
“Wow! I think they've got constant antigravity thrusters!” Esmeralda said excitedly. Her interest in the big alien ship was temporarily overriding her concern for the new female captives.
“Maybe that ship really could find earth for us if the convicts take it,” Kellie Juleman said. “Wouldn't that be wonderful?” She had gone from scared to excited to believing her troubles were over the instant the other ship appeared.
Esmeralda glared at her then relented. She hadn't been a captive long enough to know what was in store for her or how stupid her remark sounded.
“No, it wouldn't be wonderful,” she told her. “All that would mean is that they'd have to kill every one of us for fear of being tried on murder and kidnapping charges. And in addition to whatever they did to get them sent to the prison planet, those kind of charges would be a death sentence.”
“Even if they were responsible for a first contact?”
“For goodness sake, get real, Kellie. It wouldn't make a damn bit of difference, especially with what they're planning. We'll be lucky to live through it when the shooting starts. Hell, we don't even know what kind of weapons the aliens use. Suppose it turns out to be something like a neural whip you read about in science fiction novels? Or worse?”
They were talking while standing in the shadow of the tender where Morehill had directed them to be placed. There were three guards spaced equally far apart and far enough from the group that anyone who dared to try overcoming them would be killed. Even though their weapons weren't visible, they had their hands on them beneath their shirts. Esmeralda thought she might have a bare chance to take one of them by surprise but not all three of them. All she could do was wait for an opportunity if one ever came. Some days she almost gave up hope but never completely. She was on the good side of Morehill and sooner or later, she thought he would get careless enough that she would find the right situation and lead a rebellion. With the new women, there were almost half as many captives and former captives as convicts. Who knows? she thought. It might even succeed, little as the chance might be. The alien ship was a completely new factor, though, a wild card. Maybe that would help.
“They're coming out,” Morehill said in a loud voice. “Remember, no shooting unless I give the word.”
Esmeralda was both watching and listening. From where she stood with the other former guards and the newly kidnapped women, she watched avidly as first one large hatch and then another opened in the ship. It had come down close to their settlement as lightly as a piece of down floating to the earth. From the open hatches the aliens emerged slowly but deliberately.
They aren't bad-looking, she thought. Like ... upright, tailless ferrets in a way but with rather more fur around their heads. The rest of their pelts were sleek and shiny and universally a light golden brown. The only garments on them were belts from which depended a few shiny instruments of unknown potential. From what she could see, they could as easily be their version of screwdrivers and wrenches as weapons. Or anything in between. At any rate they didn't appear frightened at all. In fact they kept coming out as if every one of them intended to clear the hatches before initiating contact. They came in groups, too. First one closely aligned bunch walking almost in step and then another, alternating between the two open hatches or airlocks.
“Cute little fellows, aren't they?” Sissy said. It was one of the few times Esmeralda had heard her speak since the return of the tender and those had been words of reassurance to the most fearful of the women captured with her. She had stood up straight and glared at their captors every time one of them came close.
“Yeah, they look like cute little blond ferrets but that doesn't mean they won't think we'd make good beefsteaks,” Esmeralda answered and immediately wished she hadn't been so flippant. One of the women promptly fainted. Esmeralda started to go to her but Sissy beat her to it, catching the woman before her fall was completed and possibly saving her from injury. Quick thinking. Good. If she did decide to start something she thought she could depend on Sissy to help and not get hysterical.
At last the aliens appeared to all be outside. At least no more appeared. It was then that Esmeralda noticed.
“Look,” she said and nudged Sissy. “They're congregated in groups of six. See?”
Sissy did look and appeared to be trying to get a count. Presently she said, “You're right. God, there must be a hundred of the things altogether.”
“Not quite that many,” Esmeralda corrected her after doing a quick calculation in her head. She had experience estimating troops, whether they be human or something else. “Probably more like, oh, seventy or eighty.”
“I wonder if that's all of them? For that matter I wonder what the significance of the groups of six are? I—oh wow! They're starting to move.” Esmeralda glanced away from them and toward the convicts. She knew they were almost all armed but they weren't displaying any weapons. She saw that some of them were beginning to fidget as one last group of six of the ferretlike beings exited from their ship. Whatever the significance of grouping in clusters of six, it didn't prevent them from talking to each other.
She thought it was talking. The noises resembled ... a speeded up sound track of contralto-toned voices, but so far as she could see it was always one of a six-pack who spoke at a time. She also noticed none of them were ever interrupted. The thought of calling their grouping a six-pack was amusing. It would probably catch on even if she never said a word about it.
The aliens continued
moving, faster than before but still at no great speed. It was toward the smallest group of humans, the kidnapped women and former guards that they headed. She thought their choosing the smaller group for the initial contact might be meaningful. Perhaps it was intended as a nonthreatening approach or maybe they thought the smaller group of humans were the leaders but both suppositions were only guesses. Whatever their intentions might have been, a nervous convict spoiled it.
“Don't go over there! We're the goddamed honchos! Hey, over here!” one of them shouted. She thought it was Morehill but the speaker was so nervous the voice was ragged. However, it served its intended purpose but only momentarily.
The aliens immediately turned almost in unison and began walking toward Morehill and the convicts around him. Esmeralda couldn't see anything threatening about them but apparently at least one convict did. Perhaps two. She heard the cry of, “Stop, you bastards!” and again, “Stop!” Then the sound of a shot.
She shuddered as one of the aliens spouted blood from its chest, as red and vital as their own. The remaining members of the six-pack the downed member belonged to huddled around the body and began a shrill high-pitched wailing but it was overridden by the sounds of more shots. Lasers joined in and she closed her eyes but the smell of scorched hair and flesh still assaulted her nostrils with its stench.
She heard a voice yelling, “The ship! Take the ship!” She opened her eyes and saw Morehill pointing toward the two open hatches. He clapped several men on the shoulder and sent them running with drawn guns. Immediately after he saw them disappear into the ship, she heard more yelling.
“Stop! Stop shooting!”
She thought it sounded like Fondez but then Morehill joined in. The firing ceased except for a few last stray shots. By then nearly half the aliens were dead or wounded. Many were wailing in their high-pitched voices. Fondez separated himself from Morehill and strode toward the ferretlike beings.
He stood in front of them and said, “Sit down! Sit down!” Then apparently remembered that they couldn't possibly understand him. He thought for a moment then demonstrated what he wanted while repeating the words loudly and slowly. “Sit ... down.”
They gradually got the idea although their notion of sitting was more of a half crouch. It gave her a chance to see that their legs were larger in proportion to their bodies than those of humans. Otherwise she thought they now looked like scared animals at a slaughterhouse. And of course that's exactly what it was. They had been massacred, pure and simple. It was atrocious and an atrocity and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Their three guards had held fast while the shooting was going on.
Morehill moved to join Fondez. As they stood together, one of their men appeared at an open hatch and called out.
“We can't find none of them inside! The others are still looking!”
“Keep at it. Hey, wait! Come back and get a noebook so you can map it out while you search.”
He complied while Esmeralda wondered what on earth they could be thinking. The aliens hadn't been a threat. They hadn't even been armed, apparently. But it would have happened before long anyway, she knew. She hoped their astrogators hadn't been killed. Or their pilots. It would do no good at all to have a ship with no one knowing how to run it.
“Lord have mercy,” Sissy said. She looked at the guards. “Can't you at least try to help the wounded?”
The man shrugged. “If the boss wants them helped, he'll let us know. You bitches just stay still and don't cause no trouble. That goes for you army joes, too.”
As if we could, Esmeralda thought.
* * * *
Late that night, Jan lay down beside her. She woke up from a light sleep as he adjusted his body and muttered curses in a low voice.
“What is it now, Jan?”
“Ah, I been bandaging up those animals like Fondez said to. Wouldn't let none of you near them. Bastard.”
“I agree but I don't run the place.”
“Yeah and don't let nobody hear you say that. And don't repeat it to no one, but shit, there weren't no need for all that killing. Those puppy dogs didn't even have pocket knives, much less guns.” He whispered the statement to her to avoid being overheard by others nearby.
“What did you do with the ferrets?”
He chuckled softly. “Yeah, they do look like ferrets, don't they? We've got ‘em all roped together out in the open with their wounded. Morehill made them drag the dead ones away. He had to shoot one of them to get them started.”
Damn him to the raging hell where he belongs, she thought bitterly. If the rest of their species ever hears about this, they'll declare war. No, they'll probably just blast every planet we own back to the stone age if that ship of theirs is an indication of how far advanced they are.
“What's happening to the women they brought back?”
“Nothing yet. It took until now to get everything all sorted out. Crag and Fondez made us tie ‘em up when we brought ‘em inside the bay and they've got a guard on ‘em. Crag said we'd take care of ‘em tomorrow. Right now him and Fondez are too excited about having a spaceship.”
“They'd better hope they didn't kill the ones that know how to fly it,” she said.
“Yeah. I done figured that out myself. G'night, Essie. I'm too tired for anything tonight.”
“Good night,” she said. And thank the powers for small favors, she thought, even if he is the least disgusting of the three. Four if Crag was counted.
She lay awake for a while longer and wondered what would happen the next day. For certain the new females would be parceled out. For now they were not only tied up but attached to each other. They must all be sleeping together like a nest of kittens that have lost their mother and don't know what's going to happen next. She felt sorry for them but she felt sorry for herself and the other captives, too. She decided not to ask about the remaining tender. If they had destroyed it, someone would be bragging soon enough. Somehow she thought they hadn't, though. The fact Brad hadn't returned from their kidnapping mission testified that the raid hadn't been completely successful.
She wondered about the aliens, too, the ferrets as she and the others were beginning to call them. What must they be thinking? Whatever, it couldn't be good. She tried to figure out some way to help them but nothing came to mind. They were all in the same position.
Long past the middle of the night she finally slept.
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* * *
Chapter Fifteen
“What could possibly have possessed them?” Siessina moaned. She chattered softly to the remains of the sextant, only three of them now, not counting the one who was unconscious and slowly fading away from the horrendous amount of blood she had lost before it could be staunched.
None of the others answered immediately. She could hear members of other sextants talking. Occasionally the aliens with their horrible personal weapons said something in their odd rough voices but it hardly mattered. Whatever their intentions, there was no way to resist them. But who could have expected something so ghastly to happen? They must be mad, she thought. Mad like those few of us we have to correct before they grow up. Or ... perhaps they had consumed some local toxic matter which drove them mad. It was certainly a more charitable explanation and could even be possible.
The sextant of biological specialists had miraculously survived intact and was able to think more coherently than others. Their spokeswoman had pointed out that the aliens weren't of the same structure as the two big game animals they had seen being stripped for meat nor of the small whole roasted ones they had thrown at them at feeding time. All those had eight appendages as opposed to four for the aliens. No sextant had partaken, of course. Not yet. It had been so many ages since slain animals had been consumed for protein that the idea was still repugnant. That might change if they grew hungry enough, she knew.
There was another factor relating to the aliens, too. They must have come from another star system. This ... camp
was too crude in comparison to the aircraft they'd followed to the place. Much too crude, and it didn't look to have interstellar capabilities. Somewhere there must be more of the creatures. She could only hope they weren't as violent as this bunch.
“Maybe ... could it be ... that this is a natural way for this particular species to act?” Seemeena proposed. “After all, conflict is the natural order of the fauna on most worlds.”
Siessina tried to get her mind around the idea and failed at first. She wondered how Seemeena could have thought of such a thing. Of course the evidence, their dead, dying and wounded certainly seemed to point in that direction. And their aircraft! It had holes in its canopy and fuselage as if a larger version of their explosive weapons had been used on it. Maybe that was what impelled Seemena to think of such a thing. Perhaps they fought among themselves? No! She couldn't bring herself to think sapient beings could possibly be so ruthless for no purpose. Surely there had to be an alternate explanation.
“I refuse to think so poorly of them yet, Seemeena,” she finally said. “Not until all other explanations have been ruled out. And yet I must admit the possibility, however repulsive. However, if it does prove to be true it means other intelligent species might be the same. It could be that we are an exception and not the rule, horrible as the thought might be. When and if we get a chance, perhaps we should ask our males what they think.”
No one else entered the discussion and it was dropped in favor of wondering why they had been tied up like so many bundles being carried by poor sextant farmers on a colony world. They certainly were no threat now if they ever had been, which of course they had not, so there was no need to secure them so uncomfortably. There was no logical explanation for that, either, unless Seemeena's suggestion was true, but none of the other sextants were willing to go that far yet. At last the sextants and partial sextants one by one began deciding to sleep despite how uncomfortable their bonds were.